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Now, he just wanted to sleep for a week, but he was afraid he wouldn’t get to do that until he was back home.
And maybe with a tawny mane of curls tucked up under his chin and a handful of ass.
If Maker didn’t kill him first. Which was always on the table with Maker.
Ryder made his way to the motel office, paid in cash, and found his room.
The only gear he’d been able to bring was what he could fit in a backpack, so stowing his clothes was a non-issue.
He tossed the bag on one of the two beds and laid down on the other.
About the time he closed his eyes, a knock sounded at the door.
Ryder had figured that his best bet for contact with Daggers was to let them come to him. They knew he was here, knew where he was.
He’d expected to wait a day. Maybe two.
But here they were.
Ryder edged to the window and pulled the curtain aside just enough that he could see.
Nope. Not bikers in cuts.
A brunette in a short skirt.
Ryder cracked the door open. “I’m afraid you have the wrong room, ma’am,” he said.
Short skirt looked him up and down, “You Ryder?”
Ryder frowned, “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Holly,” the woman said, extending her hand. “Lowe sent me.”
“You mean Harlowe Dane?” Ryder asked, not bothering to keep the skepticism from his voice.
Harlowe Dane was president of the Outlaw Daggers MC out of Chattanooga, Tennessee. And if Lowe Dane didn’t want you traveling through his mountains, then you didn’t make it to the other side.
“The one and only,” the woman grinned.
Ryder shook the extended hand but didn’t move from the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance with his big body.
“Sorry, ma’am, but you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Holly’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Better than what?”
“You expect me to believe Lowe sent a welcome to the neighborhood that happens to be the spitting image of his old lady?” Ryder asked. “I touch you, my club never sees me again, and then there’s war, because I can promise you that if I don’t get back to Savannah in one piece, Gator Tremaine will ride out, tear these mountains apart, and he’ll bring hell with him.”
Holly relaxed and blew out a breath, “Thank God.”
Ryder’s brows rose.
Holly shouldered her way past Ryder and into the room, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket as she went.
Then she spoke into the phone, “He is who he says he is. Gate’s got his back.”
Ryder leaned back against the door, keeping it open, no way in hell he’d be caught alone with this woman, and crossed thick arms over his chest.
Holly went on, “No, babe, he’s not fucking around. Didn’t touch me. I came inside, and he’s standing in the doorway, keeping it propped open.”
